Constellations
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: It all started with a return to a crime scene… stuck in the middle of the desert, bonds are formed. [GS]


**Title**: Constellations

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**Summary**: It all started with a return to a crime scene… stuck in the middle of the desert, bonds are formed. [GS]

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**Pairings**: Sara/Grissom 

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**Spoilers:** Nothing specific

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**Category**: Romance/Humour

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**Author's Notes**: Agh, this story is the love child of World History and Writer's Block. You have been warned. It now runs rampant through the silent streets of FF.net, stalking innocent readers. Those who do not review are quite often the first to go, and it grows larger and larger as it feasts. So, for your own safety, a few honest lines are a recommended result of you reading this story. 

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**Disclaimer**: I don't need to write one of these. Because I own CSI! _*lawyers magically appear and beat author with thick law textbooks*_ I take that back, I do **not** own CSI. And I'm not making a profit, unless you count the pleasure of making the plot bunnies shut up. 

~... .....-*-... .....~

Sara cursed whatever insanity it was that had prompted her to volunteer for Grissom's little excursion. The man in question trudged ahead of her, the disappointment of a dead end settled on his shoulders. She felt sorry for him- the case had had the entire night shift on edge all week, but Grissom seemed to be bearing the blunt of it. Too much evidence to run through an already backed up lab, and a media frenzy that was calling for blood. Other cases were assigned on top of this one, and the effects of doubles and triples were rampant among the team.

She and Nick had just finished an arson in the north end of town when Grissom had come striding through the corridors of the building with the I-solved-the-case glint in his eyes.

She remembered the conversation well.

_"Hey Grissom, what's up?"_

_"I need to go back to the scene…is Nick around?"_

_"He's getting lunch," she informed him, finishing the report she was typing. "He just left, so he won't be back for awhile. Shouldn't you wait until daylight to go back? You won't be able to find something we haven't already in the dark."_

_"I need to see it the way the killer did," he asserted earnestly._

_She shrugged internally. Who was she to argue with Grissom's logic?_

_"Okay then, I'll go with you."_

_"Good, I could use your eyes."_

Sara didn't put much stock in his comment, knowing it was merely the fact she was the only CSI available. Still, she didn't argue, and met him outside the building five minutes later.

Well, the theory had led to a whole lot of nothing. It was one of those rare cases where Grissom was wrong, and she knew he hated it. She stepped carefully as she made her way down a rock covered slope. 

From behind her, their police escort asked if they had found what they were looking for. She had forgotten his existence, and turned to reply. With seemingly no warning, she felt her footing slip. 

She let out a short scream as she slid, finally ending up fifteen feet further down then she started. Her two companions hurried down to her side.

"Are you okay?" asked the worried officer.

She grinned. 

"Just fine," she replied, dusting off her hands. She went to stand, but drew a sharp breath in pain. She couldn't move. She looked down at her foot. "Shit."

"What?" Grissom asked skeptically. He followed her gaze. His tone was much softer when he continued. "Oh, Sara."

Her foot was caught in a crevice, and bent awkwardly.

"It's fine," she assured him. "Doesn't even hurt. Unless I try to stand."

The two men moved down to get a better look at her foot. They attempted to gently manipulate it, but it was stuck. Wincing in pain, Sara finally snapped at them to cut it out. Grissom gave her an apologetic smile.

"It's wedged in there pretty good," he told her.

"Thanks for the news," replied Sara scathingly. "Just get it out."

"It won't come out, ma'am. We're going to have to get a professional out here," the cop informed her.

"A professional _what_ exactly?"

"I'm not sure."

She could tell he was trying not to laugh. The situation was hardly funny, in her opinion. Grissom had pulled out his cell phone, but quickly put it back and sighed. 

"Nothing. You'll have to go back to the car and radio for a paramedic. And you'll have to wait near the road to flag the ambulance," he told the officer. "They'll never find us otherwise."

It was a very angry Sara that interrupted his planning. 

"It's forty five minutes from town, and with the way my night's going, the ambulance won't even respond right away. You want me to sit here for God knows how long? And do _what_ exactly?"

Giving her a mild look, he answered. "Enjoy the view."

Once she got her foot free, he was going to pay.

~*~

          "That's Cassiopeia," Grissom said, pointing to a star cluster. "She was a queen of Philistia."

          "It's a bunch of stars," responded Sara bitterly. "You know, balls of burning gas?"

          "Not to the Greeks they weren't. The stars recorded their history and mythology. It's quite fascinating really."

          Sara wished he'd go back to sitting quietly beside her; why he felt it necessary to speak in the first place was beyond her. They had been sitting there for almost half an hour already, and her ass was numb. She was thankful that she had landed in a somewhat comfortable position, excluding the foot-in-crack situation. Her kit sat where Grissom had sat it once it was retrieved. Excluding a small dent, it was no worse for the wear. 

          Knowing he'd be put out if she didn't feign interest, she swallowed her pride and asked.

          "So what did Cassiopeia do?"

          Glad she was playing along, he gave a childish grin.

          "She was very beautiful, but vain. She made the mistake of claiming her beauty rivaled that of the Nereids, the fifty daughters of the sea-god Nereus. In anger, he sent the sea monster Cetus after the town. The only way to stop it would be the sacrifice of Cassiopeia's daughter, Andromeda; so she was chained to a giant rock. Perseus rescued Andromeda, and she was to be his wife. This didn't sit well with the queen, and she plotted Perseus's death. 

"The attack occurred at his wedding feast, and he was greatly outnumbered. But he had in his possession the head of Medusa, and turned Cassiopeia to stone. She, along with the king, was placed in the sky, facing one another's feet," he paused and pointed to King Cepheus. "They can't speak to one another. And because of it's placement in the sky, neither constellation sets below the horizon. To the Greeks, they did not set below the sea; this was explained by Cassiopeia's insult to the sea nymphs." 

Sara smiled at him. "It's funny the explanations people come up with when the science leads them nowhere."

"Yeah," he said, watching the sky. He stole a glance at her face, and was surprised by her smile. It was relaxed and open, a very natural adornment on her face. She was watching him carefully, and he felt a heightened sense of awareness when he turned back to the night sky.

"Do you know any more?"

Her voice was hushed but inquisitive. For a moment it was easy for Grissom to delude himself that things were alright between them, that they weren't just the broken remnants of what had been a strong friendship. Delusion was dangerous, but that was okay for now. 

"Well, there's Perseus."

"Andromeda's hero?"

"There's a lot more to his story then that."

"Tell me," requested Sara. "My Greek mythology's rusty."

"It's a long one," he warned her.

"And your audience is held captive," she teased back. 

"The king of Argolis had two quarreling sons, Acrisius and Proetus. After his death, the sons split the kingdom in two. Acrisus had a daughter, Danaë, who he locked in a tower after hearing that he would die at the hands of her son. Zeus, a god, fell in love with her and she bore his child. The king tried to dispose of the two by throwing them into the sea, but the chest floated to the island of Seriphus, where a fisherman pulled it to shore, and he and Danaë fell in love. 

"Perseus grew to manhood on the island, and was well known. But when his adopted father passed away, his mother came to the attention of King Polydectes. Danaë could not refuse his advances, and Perseus wanted to save his mother. Knowing Perseus was a threat to his scheme, Polydectes set him to the task of retrieving Medusa's head as a wedding gift."  

Pausing in his narrative, Grissom glanced over to ensure he still held her attention. He did, but he didn't continue. Try as she might, she couldn't suppress the shiver that caused her body to tremble. 

"Are you cold?"

"Just a bit," she said dismissively. 

"You should have said something. There's a blanket in the car."

"It's not a big thing."

"I think there's a floodlight too. It'll help them find us," Grissom told her, standing up. "I'll be back in five minutes."

"I'll be here," she quipped.

Sara watched his retreating back head over a hill, knowing that he had parked on the other side. Once he was out of sight, she leaned back. Her ankle had started to throb painfully, and she was about three seconds from begging for a dose of aspirin. Still, had the circumstances been a bit different, she would have considered this to be the most romantic night she'd had in a year. Hell, probably the last five years. And you could pretty much drop the changed circumstances criteria as well.

She distracted herself with thoughts of how she wished the night would play out until he came back.

He held up a blanket in a peace offering. 

"No floodlight, but I did find sandwiches," he reported, draping the blanket over her shoulders. She grinned at him, then took the offered food.

"Where was I?"

"Perseus was off to fetch Medusa's head."

"Right. Perseus, being the son of Zeus, had the gods on his side…."

~*~

"Three hours? Glad to know my tax dollars are used wisely," Sara muttered when the paramedics arrived.

"Our apologies," snapped the older one. "We just figured a six car pileup took precedence over a foot."

Sara literally bit her tongue to stop herself from replying. The man was right, but she wasn't really in the mood to listen to reason. The two EMTs looked at her foot, then discussed the best plan of action. Sara was thankful she managed not to yell something about step one being getting her goddamn foot out of the goddamn hole. 

The cop had come back with them, and he seemed to have gotten over whatever he had found amusing in the first place. He looked on, a concerned look on his face, from a safe distance away.

One of the paramedics had started to chip at the bedrock, carefully avoiding her foot. She winced at every stroke though, as the vibrations moved her foot just enough to send up another flare of pain. He noticed, and gave her a sympathetic smile. She forced herself to return one, but it went unnoticed. He had already set his sights on Grissom.

"This would go a lot easier if you could hold her steady."

"That's probably a bad idea," Sara interjected, annoyed that she was being talked about as if she wasn't there. God, what was he thinking? 

_Yeah, here you go. She's humiliated herself, so by all means feel free to grab at her. Oh, you can't stand the thought of touching her? Join the club._

"It's fine Sara. Anything to make it easier."

_For who?_ was the first thought that leapt to mind, but she didn't ask. He grabbed her leg self-assuredly, holding onto her waist with his free hand. It was an awkward position, she knew, but it certainly reduced the tremors.

          It took nearly twenty minutes of constant chipping for her foot to be freed, but it finally was and was immediately wrapped to immobilize it. Grissom helped her stand, and she found that any pressure on her foot caused immediate pain. 

          "You'll have to go to the hospital and get that X-rayed," one of the EMTs told her. Evidently the one who earned his wages stating the obvious.

          He pointed to the litter they had brought with them, but she shook her head.

          "I'll walk."

          "You can't walk," he pointed out.

          "Then I'll _jump_," Sara shot back. 

          She attempted to do so, but was stopped by Grissom's hand on her arm. She wasn't sure when he had let go of her, though she figured it must have been as soon as she stood. 

          Grissom didn't say a word, just looked at her with a warning clearly written in his eyes. He put his arm on her waist again- this time more hesitantly than the last- and she leaned into his shoulder. He helped her hobble to the ambulance and then lifted her into the back. 

          "You're a spoilt child when you're hurt," he told her quietly. Nobody else heard, and they shared a brief grin. 

          "Don't let it get out."

          Sober again, he climbed into the ambulance with her and helped her find a comfortable position. 

"Do you want me to ride with you?"

          She shook her head. "Go back to the lab. I'll be fine."

          Noting his indecision, she touched his cheek to reassure him. If her action surprised him, his eyes did not betray the fact.

          "If I need anything, I'll call, okay?"

          "Alright," he agreed; concern forced him to add, "You had better."

          "I promise."

          "Good," he said. He laid a hand on her shoulder for a minute and left the vehicle just before the paramedic closed the door. 

          Grissom watched the ambulance drive away, then returned to the scene of the accident. Grabbing the blanket, he briefly considered meeting Sara at the hospital. Realizing she'd probably kill him, he chose to go back to the lab instead. 

          He hoped she called.

……………………………………

TBC, possibly.


End file.
